We All Try

My fingers ache. I’ve been subconsciously clutching my fists so tight that my nails leave tiny purple-red crescent moons in the skin of my palm.


I’ve been sleeping with the TV on. The pale blue light feels comforting, like moonlight stretching shards across the darkness. I hate sleeping with the TV on.


Sometimes I listen to music. Sometimes I can’t bear to listen to music. Sometimes the noise is too much stimulus and I need the silence. I can’t bear the silence sometimes.


I cook and I clean and sometimes I lay and I forget to cook so I don’t have to clean. I studiously walk myself through the most benign tasks. Brush your teeth. Shower. Wash your face. Have some water. Log on. Work. Drift.


I’ve been clenching my teeth in my sleep and I’ve greeted too many sunrises watching the pale amber fingers of the sun grip the edge of the windowsill and hoist itself into the sky. I eat. I don’t eat. I shudder at the idea of making another decision, at having to do another thing.


I vacillate. My mind shudders and starts at being decisive, my thoughts trudging through mud to arrive at their conclusion. I drink and then I don’t drink. I exercise and then I don’t exercise. I talk and then I run out of words. I feel it all very deeply, and have nowhere to put it.


I’m okay, I know. We’re all doing the best we can. Sometimes my best roars. And sometimes my best curls tightly into the quiet. But I keep trying for my best. We all try.

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